by KL Evans
That.
Fucking.
Day.
Before I get to that day, I should remind you of the day before that day, because the day before that day was hard to beat. I think it was the perfect day, but looking back it seems more like you were trying too hard because you knew what you were about to do to me.
You called me in the middle of the day—the day before that day—and you had a breezy, carefree inflection and you said, “Seth! Se-eth… Take off early. The weather is so gorgeous today. Take off, come over, and let’s have a picnic in my backyard.”
You are so random and I love it, and I didn’t really have much on my plate that day other than finally starting to write Missy’s story, so I said, “I’ll be there in thirty.”
You were wearing that same dress from the day I met you at the café and you were barefoot. Your toenails were painted pale pink. You hadn’t dyed your hair in a while and the natural color was peeking through, and I noticed on that afternoon that it wasn’t an unextraordinary shade of medium brown. In fact, in the sunlight that afternoon it almost looked red, and that caused your eyes to look more blue than gray.
You had a real picnic blanket spread out—the classic, old-school, red-and-white checkered kind—and an actual basket. That actually looked like a cheap Easter basket, but it was charming nonetheless. You made us peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches, and I love those—I told you that at some point, which was why you made them—but I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat peanut butter or strawberry jelly ever again.
We sat cross-legged on the blanket, facing each other, and we were happy. We were so happy, Charlie. Why can’t we just go back to that afternoon and be happy? Wouldn’t you like that? I know I would.
You said, “I’m so glad I met you, Seth McCollum. You’re the best person I’ve met in a long time.”
I smiled and said, “I’m glad I met you too.” I should’ve said, I love you, but I didn’t.
You said, “I wish I’d met you when Jade was still around. Jade would have liked you a lot. You would have liked her too. She was really smart and had a really dry sense of humor.”
I said, “She must’ve been smart if she was a teacher. I bet she had a great personality, too. You have to in order to work with kids like she did.” I should’ve said, I love you, but I didn’t.
You said, “I wish things were different. I wish there was a way to love someone and lose them, but not hurt so much. That’s the thing, Seth McCollum. Everyone is going to die at some point. We’re all going to lose someone we love at some point. It’s part of life, you know? I wish there was a way to experience loss, but somehow feel okay about it. That’s why some people believe in heaven or an afterlife or reincarnation, or just something next that’s way better than all this is. Or a chance to try again. They just want there to be anything but an end. End scares people. Nothing scares people. And the fact that someone they love ends or becomes nothing, makes losing them harder. It would be different if, like, someone just moved away to a tropical paradise. Then they’d be like, wow! I’ll miss you, but that’s awesome! Have fun! You know what I mean?”
I said, “I know what you mean. But I think it’s also the absence of that person. Part of why you love them is being with them and when you can’t be with them anymore, ever again, like never, that’s hard. You’re right that it’s the finality of it, but it’s also the finality of never seeing them again. Everything you loved about them is reduced to your memories.” I should’ve said, I love you, but I didn’t.
You said, “That’s so true.”
You crawled across the blanket and climbed into my lap, curling up against me like you were impersonating your cat, and you cried again. Just a little that time. Very quietly, while you anchored your fingers into my shirt.
And I said, “I know you miss your sister. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I wish there was a way for it to not hurt so much, too. I’m just so sorry.” I should’ve said, I love you, but I didn’t.
I told myself that if you decided to say, I love you, Seth McCollum, I’d say, I love you, too. But you didn’t say it that time. You never said it again.
We went back inside eventually. You straightened up the kitchen and I chatted with you and I didn’t suspect a thing. I still didn’t suspect a thing when we went to bed, and because I didn’t suspect a thing I didn’t make any effort to really savor that night. That last night we had together. I wish I’d known, but I didn’t suspect anything.
I had to wake up early the next morning—that day. You woke up long enough to wrap your arms around my neck and kiss me. I do remember that you kissed me like your life depended on it, but I still didn’t suspect a thing. Then you went back to sleep and I went home to shower and change clothes.
That fucking day.
On that fucking day, the chaos began early. At 8:22, I got a call from Missy, who was in hysterics.
“Seth!” she hollered. “Seth, I didn’t know who else to call. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know who else to call.”
“It’s okay. What’s wrong?”
“Christian’s hurt,” she said, choking on her words. “He’s hurt really bad. A fight broke out and three guys nearly beat him to death.”
I jumped out of my chair. “Holy shit. Is he still at the jail?”
“No, he’s in such bad shape that they took him to Parkland. He’s in the ER and my goddamned car won’t start again!”
“I’ll come get you. Are you at work or at home?”
“I’m at home.”
“I’m on my way.”
I got to her apartment by 9:18 and we were at the ER by 9:49. We couldn’t see Christian right away, so Missy sat in a chair with her hands clasped like she was praying, and I paced around the waiting room feeling sick to my stomach from either nerves or sucking down cup after cup after cup of coffee.
Or maybe… just maybe, on some level… I knew what you were up to. Like a sixth sense. A sixth sense that alerts you when someone is about to completely destroy you.
Ava showed up with bagels at 10:06 and told us to eat.
“This is going to be a long day,” she said, and boy was she right, “so eat up. You’ll need your strength.”
It wasn’t until 11:37 that Missy was called back to see him. Ava sat next to me, meticulously spreading cream cheese onto half of a bagel, and I chewed on the corner of one, not really tasting it and mostly staring at the double doors that lead to the unit.
At 11:42, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out to see your name on the screen and I thought nothing of it. It was Friday. You had class later that afternoon. You always called me on your class days and I guessed you were bored and decided to check in earlier that day.
“Hey Charlie,” I said through a mouthful of bagel.
“Seth… uh, Seth McCollum.” That was weird, but I didn’t suspect anything
“What’s up, Charlie? You all right?”
“I’m… well… are you like… I mean, how’s your day going?”
“Actually, it’s—”
I was cut off by the sound of an incoming call and I pulled the phone away to see that Missy was beeping in. “Hey, can I call you back?”
“Sure!” You sounded suspiciously relieved, but I didn’t suspect anything. “Later.”
“Missy?” I asked after switching over.
“Seth, can you please come back here?” She was sobbing. “Can you both come back?”
I felt sick once again as Ava and I made our way into the unit because I knew it was going to be bad. Bad was not sufficient.
Imagine the face of a person who’s been stung hundreds of times by a swarm of bees. Combine that with blood, bruising, and various abrasions and lacerations. He also had his left arm set in a splint and bandages as if had been broken. A red toothbrush that had clearly been altered into a shank protruded from his right side, smack in the center of his ribs. He wasn’t moving, didn’t seem to be conscious, and barely appeared to be breathing.
; “Holy shit,” I said under my breath as I stood in horrified awe for only a second before Missy stepped around nurses, a doctor, and two police officers, stood in front of me, and grabbed my hands.
“My son is going to die,” she declared in a voice like shattered glass.
“No, he’s not,” I said quickly. “He’s in bad shape, but none of that looks life-threatening.”
“He’s got a punctured lung, Seth! He’s got a traumatic brain injury because they beat his face against concrete! That’s life-threatening!”
I didn’t know what I was talking about, obviously, but I still had an obligation to try. “Okay, but he’s here now. This is the best place for him and they’re going to be able to fix all that. He’ll probably have a long recovery, but he’s not going to die, Missy.”
She dropped her head and began sobbing, so I led her to a corner of the room. Ava attempted to coax her into drinking some water and sitting in a chair, but Missy wanted nothing to do with either.
We were in there for a while, watching the medical team work on him. The officers made haphazard attempts to talk to Missy in a way clearly intended to calm her, but that didn’t work either.
At 12:03, Christian began seizing and Missy let out a blood-curdling scream. She tried to run across the small room toward him, but the officers formed a barrier.
Ava pleaded with her, “Missy, come back. Missy just let them work on him.”
The pleading was fruitless and the looks on the officers’ faces made me uncomfortable, so I reached for Missy from behind and pulled her backward to the corner.
“Missy, you need to let them help him. Stay here.”
“He’s dying!”
“He’s not. It’s just a seizure,” I said as my phone buzzed in my pocket. Your name appeared on the screen and I ignored the call. “Just stay calm. They’re helping him.”
Another stretch of time passed, although it was likely only thirty seconds, and the seizing reached a fever pitch. Missy howled, and my phone buzzed again, and I was so agitated at you because why the hell didn’t you understand that this was a really bad time?
“Charlie, what do you need?”
“Seth McCollum…”
“What?”
“I uh… umm.”
“Jesus, Charlie! Spit it out!”
“Seth McCollum… are you sure you’re not too attached to me?”
I was already sick to death of the don’t get too attached to me nonsense, and right then I was one hundred percent done with it and you constantly bringing it up, and I snapped.
“I am absolutely not too attached to you and if you bring it up again, I will prove it by showing you how not attached I am. Does that make sense? I’m in the middle of a crisis right now and I don’t have time for this childish bullshit.”
You scoffed. “Well jeez, if you're that busy you didn't have to answer the phone. God. Good luck with your crisis.”
“Thanks!” I shouted before tossing the phone in the chair.
That’s what I said to you.
I should’ve said I love you and I’m sorry this is such a bad time because it’s obvious you need me right now, but I didn’t. I threatened to leave you if you didn’t stop bothering me. I love you, I’ve never been in love before, I never told you so, and I have to spend the rest of my life, all the way until I’m on my deathbed, knowing that’s what I said to you.
I held Missy while Christian rode out his seizure, and the medical team finally got him under control. He was still and quiet for a long time, and they let Missy go to him. She held his hand, stroking the back of it, and spoke quietly.
“I’m right here, baby. Mama’s here. Can you look at me, baby?”
A mother’s voice is a magical thing, and Missy has the most motherly voice I’ve ever heard. I thought of the day at the courthouse, and how you said you wished you had a mom like her, and I found myself feeling the same way.
And as she spoke to him, and as she stroked his hand, she worked her magic and Christian began to stir. He opened his eyes as well as he could in spite of the extreme swelling and looked straight up into his mother’s tear-filled eyes.
“Mama,” he uttered, causing Ava and me to draw in and let out simultaneous deep breaths. She clutched her chest with one hand and clutched my arm with the other, while she shot me a look of extreme relief.
“Hi baby,” Missy cooed with a smile in her voice. “It’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much.”
“Mama, I hurt,” Christian wheezed, sounding like he was about twelve years old.
“I know you do. But these folks are taking good care of you.” She stroked the top of his head and kissed it. “You’re safe, baby. You’re safe now.”
“I didn’t start the fight. I was keeping to myself and minding my p’s and q’s and those guys singled me out.”
“I know, sugar. The officers told me what happened. You’re going to be okay.”
“I’ve been really good in there, Mama. I’m reading all the books you send me.” He spoke with a crack in his young voice and paused for a second. “I’m going to keep being good and I’m going to get out of there early, and when I do, I swear to you I’m going to do something good.”
“It makes me so happy to hear that, son,” she said. “I am so proud of you.”
He choked on a sob and gulped. “I want you to be proud of me.”
“I am, son. I’m proud of you. I know you, the real you, and I know how good you are. We’ll get through this. We always do.”
“Yeah. We always do.”
Ava had begun silently crying into her shirtsleeve, and I was bordering on a similar display of emotion, and since things appeared to have calmed down, I felt it was a good idea for us to step out.
We sat in the waiting room for a long time. There was a daytime talk show on the TV and I watched it while Ava buried her face in her phone. After a while, her staring at her phone reminded me that I’d been an asshole to you, and I slipped my hand in my pocket to grab my phone, only to find it missing.
“Damn it.”
“What’s wrong?” Ava asked, not looking up from her furious typing.
“I think I left my phone in there.”
“So go get it.”
“I don’t want to bother them right now.”
“It’s been about thirty minutes, they’re probably okay. Just go get it.”
I opted instead to ask the woman at the triage desk if she could retrieve it for me, and about five minutes later, she held it out to me.
The time on the screen read 12:43 and I had five missed calls from you and a voicemail.
You never leave voicemail. You never leave voicemail. But I still didn’t suspect anything.
Why? Why didn’t I suspect anything? It’s so obvious now, and I don’t know, I don’t know, I just don’t know.
I sat down again and let the voicemail play on speaker while I chewed on one of the bagels.
“I’m sorry, Seth McCollum. I’m really so sorry. I love you.” Your voice was cracking and breaking and the message ended with a cut-off sob.
I exhaled loudly, feeling a lot more like an asshole, and Ava suddenly piped up in a tone that caused me to glance at her.
“Dude. Seth, you need to go.”
“Huh? Why?”
“Something’s really wrong with her.”
I chuckled. “A lot is really wrong with her.”
Ava gaped at me. “Are you serious right now? Did you not hear what she sounded like? You’re not even worried?”
“Well, I yelled at her. She’s upset. I probably hurt her feelings and I’m going to call her back and apologize.”
Ava shook her head firmly. “I have a really bad feeling. I think you need to go. And I think you need to listen to me.”
“Ava, you’re dramatic. I’m going to call her back, but I need to stay here in case Missy needs me to take her home.”
“I can take Missy home!” Ava shouted, which was alarming and I glanced around the wai
ting room sheepishly. “Go to your freaking girlfriend!”
I rolled my eyes and dialed your number. It rang, and rang, and rang, and rang, and finally went to voicemail. I tried again. Half a dozen rings and then voicemail. I tried a third time and got the same result. But I still didn’t suspect anything. At least, nothing beyond the fact that you were epically pissed at me, and that actually did concern me because I considered the very real possibility that you not answering was your way of breaking things off.
“Uh… hmm,” I mumbled.
“Jesus Christ,” Ava said, shoving my shoulder. “Would you just go already?”
“What about Missy? I can’t just walk out on what’s probably the one of the worst days of her life.”
“She’ll understand. She’d tell you to go, too. And I’m still here. Just go.”
So I left the acutely distressing situation at the hospital and drove across the Metroplex to what would end up being another acutely distressing situation.
I called a few times during the drive and you still didn’t pick up, and that’s when I started feeling sick from worry because that’s when I knew you were going to leave me. It was the first time I’d ever experienced the phenomenon of being “in the doghouse” and I started coming up with ideas to make amends.
As I drove past downtown Fort Worth, I saw the towering, glittering hotels and thought, that would be fun. I’ll get us a hotel room.
We could stay in a hotel that night and I’d take you to dinner. A real dinner date. We’d never been on a real dinner date before, and since I’d been such an asshole, this was a good opportunity to do that for the first time.
As I headed into west Fort Worth, I decided it was time for us to have an important conversation. I decided it was time for me to tell you that I love you and to make this pseudo-relationship an official relationship.
Part of making this decision was realizing that an official relationship would carry with it understanding and stability; reassurance; that you’d know I was there for you even when I wasn’t available. I love you, I wanted to be with you, but you also needed to understand that I have a chaotic job sometimes, and sometimes my job includes days like today. Yes, Missy is my friend, but the incident with Christian that day was still sort of, technically part of my job. You seemed to be in really good shape, psychologically speaking, at that point and you didn’t need me the way you did right after the hospital.
